


Not Everything Comes Back

by ryankellycc



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bokuaka fluff, Breaking Up & Making Up, Flower Language, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, M/M, bokuto really loves akaashi and no one is surprised, plot what plot but with feelings instead of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryankellycc/pseuds/ryankellycc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto coerces Daichi into volunteering his time at a garden plot he thought he'd left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Everything Comes Back

One step, two steps, three steps. He took one step at a time up to the landing. He peered around the corner, into the hallway. It was empty. He crossed the linoleum threshold of the stairwell onto the berber carpet of the hallway and twisted his key in the lock.

A door opened from down the hall at the same time Daichi reached for the knob. He closed his eyes and waited for the fast, heavy footsteps to stop in front of him before he opened them again.

“Hey, hey! You’re back!”

“Hi Bokuto.” Daichi rested his hand on the doorknob. 

“Just got home from work?” Bokuto asked. He had his hands behind his back and bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Yup.” 

He had hoped that if he seemed disinterested enough, Bokuto would get the hint and return to his own apartment, but Bokuto moved closer.

“I waited for you and Kuroo outside the building, but got bored.” Bokuto shrugged. “But now we live so close that I all I had to do was listen!”

Daichi glared at Bokuto. “You listened for me?”

“Just today! I swear,” Bokuto made an X over his heart with his index finger. “Did Kuroo leave late, too? I didn’t see him either.”

“Yeah, I left him at the office. It sounded like he was stuck on the phone.” 

“On a Friday evening?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t stick around for the details.” Bokuto’s eyes dropped and Daichi felt guilt pool in his stomach. He took his hand off the doorknob. “Sorry. It’s just been a long…” He still wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. He didn’t like lying, but he didn’t like talking about it either. “Day.”

Bokuto nodded solemnly and whacked him on the back. He assumed that the gesture was meant to show support, but Daichi wondered if he would wake up the next morning with bruises the shape and size of Bokuto’s hand.

“I’m sure you didn’t wait for me to come home just to ask me if Kuroo stayed late. Did you want something?” 

Bokuto’s face lit up so quickly that, for a split-second, Daichi felt the urge to cover his eyes. “Yeah! Akaashi’s trying to get volunteers to work at his garden plot tomorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to help?”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’m not that great with plants.”

Bokuto scratched the side of his head. “Really? But I thought you did it all the time?”

“That was Suga’s thing.”

“Right. Sorry.” Bokuto said quietly. Daichi raised his hand to the door again, but Bokuto continued talking. “You don’t have to know anything about gardening. I mean, I don’t and I still get to help. I’ll just be moving dirt around. You know us strong men gotta do our part!”

Daichi rolled his eyes. 

“Akaashi might even let me dig holes tomorrow!”

“You’re still not allowed near a shovel?” 

“No,” Bokuto sulked. 

Daichi wipe the tears off of his face as he laughed.

He had come home from work to find Suga and Akaashi at their kitchen table, sipping tea in silence. He remembered greeting Akaashi, who only nodded back, and asked how they were. Quietly, Suga had explained that Bokuto accidently dug up all the flowers and bulbs that Akaashi had painstakingly planted and cared for since the day he got his garden plot.

Akaashi had looked away from the window and toward the door. Neither he nor Suga had noticed, but, when Akaashi had drawn attention to it, they heard whimpering. Akaashi had set his cup of tea down, thanked Suga for having him over on such short notice, said goodbye to Daichi, and moved toward the front door.

After the door closed behind him, Suga got up to eavesdrop. Daichi had snuck behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist to stop him before he could go any further. He had kissed the pale skin of Suga’s neck until, instead of begging to go to the door to listen, he begged to continue in a more secluded location and Daichi had been more than happy to oblige. 

It didn’t take long for Akaashi and Bokuto to make up. It never did. Bokuto had met Kuroo and him for lunch the next day at work and he had bounced, beamed, and bothered them like he hadn’t cried all weekend.  
Daichi asked him a thousand times how they did it, how they got past everything, but Bokuto never really had an answer other than “Akaashi’s the best” or “Akaashi’s the man!” It was infuriating. 

“So, you wanna come?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe another weekend?”

“Maybe another weekend, too, but Akaashi really needs help THIS weekend and I’m pretty sure you don’t have plans.” 

It was true, he didn’t have any plans. Kuroo had reminded him, like he had done every week for the past couple of months, that it was Friday, which signaled the glorious start of the weekend and meant that he should get his mopey ass out of his apartment and go out with him. Like last week, and the week before last, and all the weeks prior, Daichi had declined the invitation. 

Just because he didn’t have plans didn’t mean he didn’t have things to do. His stomach growled. He could try to convince himself to go to the grocery store and buy actual food. The last time he was there, he had stood in front of the baking aisle and looked at the smallest bag of flour they had. He had always wondered who on earth would buy such a small bag of flour and realized, in that moment, that those bags of flour were for people like him, people who had no one at home. Daichi had put everything he had back on the shelves and left. 

“Thanks for that.” Even if the idea of volunteering sounded appealing, there was something else, someone else that held him back. “Is anyone else going?”

“There are lots of people going! It’s going to be awesome! Konoha, Komi, Yukie.” Bokuto rattled off more names that sounded only vaguely familiar.

“Will any other teachers be going? Ones that I know?”

“Like Sugawara?”

Daichi threw his hands up in defeat. “Yeah, like Sugawara. Jesus, Bokuto.” 

“I don’t know! Maybe? Akaashi has a list in the apartment, I could get it?” Bokuto pointed to his door.

“No, it’s okay. It’s probably not gonna happen anyway.”

“Please?” Bokuto put his palms together under his chin. “Akaashi said there’s a lot to do and he’s really worried that we might not get it all done. I mean, he’s been frowning all week and, dude, I can’t sit back and do nothing.”

Bokuto had his hands in his pockets and his eyes were on his feet. This was the same man that, a year prior to meeting Akaashi, had thrown an actual, literal, physical tantrum on the sidewalk outside of their office building for reasons that not even Bokuto could remember and had embarrassed them all so badly that they refused to talk to him for two weeks. 

His heart ached. He supposed that’s what it came down to in the end. You found a person who took you at your best and at your worst, who saw you through, who inspired you to be better without wanting you to change, who went to the front door to find you and deal with your pathetic whimpering. Daichi groaned. He would have to go.

“Oh!” Bokuto chirped.

“Oh?” 

Daichi was nervous. Bokuto’s moments of inspiration were usually less inspirational and more conspiratorial. He flashed Daichi a mischievous grin and rubbed his palms together. “I know what’ll make you go tomorrow.”

Daichi furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. He squared his shoulders and physically braced himself.

“If you don’t help us tomorrow, I’ll tell Kuroo that you threw up after fartleks on Monday morning!”

Damn it. He should’ve known better than to agree to work out with Bokuto before work. Unfortunately, he had been desperate.

On the first night in his new apartment, a weird, restless energy crept up on him so suddenly that he had to get off the couch and run around the block. The moments came with more and more frequently until they changed into a constant thrumming that drove Daichi to distraction. He started running every day. When his legs couldn’t carry him anymore, he did push ups, or crunches, or lunges until everything burned. 

Then, he had started equating physical strength with emotional strength. He begun to believe that if he tore himself to shreds and left it at that, he wouldn’t have to deal with the other broken bits. 

Bokuto bobbed his head with his mouth slightly open, obviously waiting for a response. Daichi considered what would happen if Bokuto told Kuroo about his most recent humiliation. He saw the glint of Kuroo’s eyes above the cubicles, the way his shoulders shook when he tried to hold in the chuckle that he saved specifically to humble Daichi.

“I was going to say yes anyway.”

“YEAH!” Bokuto cheered. 

“When does Akaashi want me there?” 

Bokuto replied without hesitation. “Tomorrow!” 

“Yup, got that buddy. What time?” Daichi rubbed his forehead. 

“Oh! Right. Akaashi and I are leaving early to pick up dirt, so we’ll be there around 9. Wanna come with us?”

The idea of being trapped in an enclosed space with just the two of them made Daichi shudder. “Not even a little bit. Sorry. Can I come later, around 10 or so?”

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically.

“So, you’re not going to tell Kuroo about the, uh, incident, right?”

“Depends on if you show or not!” Bokuto yelled over his shoulder as he ran back to his apartment. “See you tomorrow!” 

Daichi watched him disappear. He heard the reverberations of Bokuto’s voice and looked at his watch. Akaashi would definitely be home from school by now. He closed his hand around his own doorknob, turned, and finally went into his own apartment. 

It was quiet. Even after all those months, it was the first thing he noticed. Daichi wondered if he would get used to it eventually. The thought made him shiver.

He dropped his bag on the floor and threw his keys on top of the slumped bag. Daichi peeked into the fridge and looked around like something he wanted would appear out of thin air. When that didn’t happen, he settled for a beer and brought it to the couch. On his back, propped up by pillows, he nursed his beer and stared at the wall until he fell asleep.

The next morning, Daichi woke up long before his alarm and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He moved to his bed, but couldn’t relax. The sun rose in the sky and cast its first light on the bare walls. He watched the shadows shift and lengthen in the empty space until his alarm prompted him to roll out of bed.

Daichi yawned and tried to focus on the road through bleary eyes. Kuroo recommended sleeping pills, but Daichi couldn’t quite justify them. Some nights he couldn’t keep his eyes open and passed out almost as soon as he got home from work and, in the morning, it still felt like he hadn’t slept a wink. Some nights he tossed and turned for hours. But some nights were okay. Most weren’t, but some were. 

A single, silver cloud passed in the otherwise clear sky, a wisp of silver that came out of nowhere, bewitching and unexpected. Daichi wanted to smother himself with it. 

He pulled in the small parking lot across from the community gardens, heaved himself out of the car, crossed the street, and made his way toward Akaashi’s plot. When he got there, however, it was completely empty. The sign on the gate let me know he was in the right place - Akaashi’s name was scrawled in neat calligraphy and a poorly-drawn and faded owl stared at him from the corner. 

Daichi pulled out his phone and swiped to Bokuto’s contact. 

“Sawamura-san?”

“Akaashi?”

“Bokuto-san has his hands full at the moment, so I took the liberty of answering. I hope you don’t mind?”

Daichi heard the sound of people talking in the background and looked around. “No, no, not at all. Hey,” Daichi fumbled with embarrassment, “I’m at the garden plot, I think.”

“What?”

“Your garden plot?”

“Oh. We’re at the school’s plot today. Did Bokuto-san not tell you?”

That little shit. “No, he didn’t,” Daichi quipped. 

“I’m sorry for the confusion. We’re working at the school’s plot to get it ready for fall. We have quite a large group of teachers here already, Sawamura-san, so I understand if you decide not to join us.”

Akaashi had chosen his words with a little more tact than Bokuto and Daichi was grateful.

“No, I said I’d help. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’ll just be another twenty minutes or so before I get there.”

“Are you sure?”

The trepidation in Akaashi’s voice unleashed the butterflies in Daichi’s stomach. “Positive. It’s no problem, unless, someone else is there and doesn’t want me? There, doesn’t want me there?” 

Daichi winced at the way he tripped over his words and silently praised Akaashi for his grace.

“No, like you said, it’s fine. We’ll be working for a while yet, so take your time.”

“Good. Great. Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

When Daichi arrived the school building, it looked exactly the same as it always had. He entered the lobby, waved to the Saturday receptionist who smiled back at him sadly, and walked through to the back of the building. Before going through the door that lead to the garden plot, he looked through the small window. 

When he was last there, the flowers, vegetables, and herbs were just starting to grow. Now, flowers towered along the fence and beds overflowed with green and orange and red and yellow. He kept his eyes on the plants and avoided the faces as he pushed open the door. Akaashi looked up from a clipboard and Bokuto popped out from behind him. 

“Sawamura-san, thanks for coming.”

Akaashi had a large, floppy hat tied with black ribbon and was neatly put together, despite having been around dirt all morning. Bokuto, on the other hand, was wearing a threadbare muscle tank and overalls with giant holes in the knees. He had a yellow and black bandana that held back his hair and Daichi was pretty sure that there wasn’t a single patch of skin not smeared with dirt.

“You made it!” Bokuto shouted happily. 

“No thanks to you.” 

“I’m super sorry about that. I guess it just slipped my mind?” 

Daichi waved his hand to sweep the conversation under the rug and turned to Akaashi. “What can I do to help?” 

Akaashi looked at Daichi’s arms and down the list on his clipboard. He made a mark on the paper. “Would you mind shoveling compost from the back of our truck and bringing it over? The truck is in the side lot and there should be a wheelbarrow around here somewhere. Probably by one of the vegetable areas.”

In the next breath, Bokuto was at Akaashi’s side. “Akaash! I thought I was in charge of the wheelbarrow!” He flexed and looked from his arms to Akaashi, who didn’t look up from his clipboard.

“You were, Bokuto-san, until you tipped it over on top on the herbs that we were trying to cut. Plus,” Akaashi motioned to Daichi, “we were just blessed with an impressive set of arms.”

Daichi blushed and tried to pull down the sleeves on his shirt. A loud whine ripped from somewhere deep inside Bokuto. “But I thought you liked my arms? Hey! Akaashi!”

Akaashi glanced at Bokuto and looked him up and down before returning his eyes to the clipboard. He tried to suppress a smile. “Your arms aren’t bad, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto grinned wickedly, and, in one fluid motion, he bent down to wrap his arms around Akaashi and lift him up. Akaashi yelped a little in surprise and dropped his clipboard on the ground. He tried to reach for it, but Bokuto tightened his grip. 

“Sorry Akaashi. You’re trapped here until you tell me how much you love my arms.”

“Bokuto-san, put me down.”

Akaashi’s voice was even and his command was stern, however, he didn’t look like he minded in the least. He fixed the hat on his own head and then adjusted Bokuto’s bandana. His hands threaded through Bokuto’s hair.

Bokuto clucked. “No can do, ‘Kaash. Not until you tell me how you really feel about my arms.”

Daichi knew from past experience that this could go on for a lot longer than he had the stomach for, so he tried to get their attention. “If you could just point me in the direction of the wheelbarrow, I’ll get to work…” 

Unsurprisingly, his attempt failed, so he took matters into his own hands. Daichi looked around the plot for a wheelbarrow, but a patch of neon sunflowers caught his eye and his gaze dropped to the person kneeling in front of them. 

He wasn’t aware that he had made a noise, but he must’ve, because Akaashi pulled his eyes away from Bokuto and followed Daichi’s line of sight. He patted Bokuto on the shoulder and he was lowered to the ground. 

“Sawamura-san, it’s really okay if you don’t want to participate today. I think there are enough people here to get everything done.”

Daichi heard Akaashi’s words but didn’t process them. People waved and said ‘hello’ as he passed, but he didn’t stop. Suga hummed the silly tune he always did when he was concentrating. Daichi fell to his knees. Suga looked up with wide eyes.

“Daichi.”

“Hey.”

Suga’s face was an oasis in the desert, the first rain after a drought, a fire when you thought you’d freeze to death.

He looked at the ruddy blush on Suga’s cheeks. He looked at the silver strand of hair that fell over his forehead and cast a light shadow over his clear, honeyed eyes. He looked at the mole under his left eye that he knew connected to the moles on his neck, down his chest, on his arms, his back, down his thighs, his calves. 

He wanted to reach out and brush the hair off his forehead, if only just to prove that it was the real Suga and not the one burned onto the back of his eyelids. 

Daichi tried to speak, but how could he say something when picking words would mean not saying the thousand other things he wanted to say? 

“That’s a new shirt?” Daichi considered smacking his head into the nearest fence post.

“It is…” Suga raised his eyebrows and looked down at the shirt he was wearing.

“It looks good on you.” God, it was a dumb thing to say, but it did. The blue and white stripes were perfect; the white brought out the rosy hues of his skin and light blue was Suga’s favorite color. 

“Thanks, I think. I made the mistake of wearing it to class last week and,” Suga pointed to a huge green spot down the front of it, “one of the kids threw paint at me. You know I can’t have nice things,” he joked.

Daichi tried to respond, but when Suga pointed at the stain, he had lifted up the shirt just enough to to reveal a hint of skin above his shorts and it sent a shock down Daichi’s spine. He could barely breathe. The weight of the past few months hovered over him like a shoe over a bug.

Suga laughed to himself. Daichi let the cadence of Suga’s laugh wash over him and soak into his skin.

“You know you’re not going to get away with doing nothing,” Suga pointed out. He handed Daichi a tool with three prongs.

“I know.”

He looked at the tool in his hand and tried to remember what it was called. Suga had told him so many times. Did he really not remember? What had he been doing all those years? He poked the tool into the ground a couple times without intention and looked up when he heard muffled giggling.

“Really?” 

Daichi expected sarcasm, reprimand, and, ultimately, disappointment, but definitely not giggling. He started to laugh, too. 

Suga shifted closer to Daichi. “You’re going to loosen up the patch of dirt in front of you with the cultivator. The tool. In your hand. Then we’re going to sow some seeds for fall crops so that the kids have something to harvest in a couple months.”

“Here?” Daichi pointed in front of him. Suga was close enough that he could feel the heat from his body. The faint smell of sweat and detergent made it hard for him to focus.

“Yeah, and the patch you’re sitting on.”

Daichi shifted to the side to get off the patch of dirt. 

“Stop!” 

Suga’s hands shot out and wrapped around his arms, stilling him immediately. Daichi’s biceps tensed under Suga’s touch and he felt Suga hold him tighter. They locked eyes. Suga’s gaze drifted from Daichi’s face to his hands on Daichi’s arms. He pulled away quickly. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to grab you like that. It’s just that you were just about to sit on the carrots.” Suga motioned to the frilly greens that popped out of the ground next to Daichi’s knee.

“It’s fine.” 

Suga only nodded and went back to his task. He brushed away some of the dirt from the greens in front of him. Then, he picked up the trowel and pierced the earth in a circle around the green top. He stuck the trowel in and loosened the soil. He worked deftly and delicately and Daichi wanted to watch him all day, like he had in the past. He admired Suga in so many ways, but did he ever tell him?

Suga took hold of the greens and eased the vegetables out of the ground. He raised them in the air and let out a puff of breath. His shoulders dropped in relief and he grinned at Daichi. 

“Yes! They’re perfect! I finally got the harvest time right!”

He held the greens in his hands, the red bulbs dangled below. Dirt still clug to the small roots at the bottom of each bulb and dropped to the ground as Suga shook them. 

Daichi blushed at the unbridled joy in Suga’s eyes, but a soft “wow” was all he could muster.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Daichi panicked. “I’m not! I promise. I had no idea what you were doing and the whole process was really cool to see.” Daichi looked at the poorly tilled patch of dirt in front of him. “Could I help you instead? Could you show me how?”

“Really?” Suga asked incredulously. 

“Definitely.”

“Why?”

Daichi shrugged. “I came here to help and I’m not really getting anywhere here. And you’re excited, which makes me feel like I might be missing out.” 

It was Suga’s turn to blush. “Okay, but you do eventually have to work on the dirt in front of you. And you have to pay attention! Radishes aren’t hard to harvest, but you can still screw it up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Glad to know I’m in the same category of gardeners as Bokuto.”

Suga laughed loudly. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Sure,” he said sarcastically. 

They fell back into it so easily, but, then again, flirting had always been easy for them. It was practically a default setting. 

Daichi took hold of the trowel and Suga guided his hand. If Daichi had to pick any moment to exist in forever, he would’ve chosen this one. 

When they were finished, Suga shook the dirt off his hands and admired the pile of radishes piled up next to Daichi. “You were such a good listener today, Daichi. I’m proud of you,” he cooed in his best teacher voice. 

Maybe he could pretend that they just met. That he was a random guy who just laid eyes on the most handsome man he’d ever seen. That maybe, in this pretend universe, they hadn’t given up on each other. 

“You were an excellent teacher, Sugawara-sensei.”

A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth, but it never blossomed into the real thing. “Thanks, Daichi,” he said softly. 

The moment was slipping like sand through his fingers. He tried to find something to say, a question to ask, anything to hold on to Suga’s attention. The sunflowers caught his eye. “Will those sunflowers come back next year?” Daichi blurted.

“Huh?” Suga asked, surprised by the abrupt turn in the conversation. 

Daichi scratched the back of his head. “It’s just, I remember you telling me about plants that grow back every year.”

Suga looked at the sunflowers. “Oh, no. Not really. They aren’t considered perennials.” Daichi stared at him blankly, so he clarified. “Meaning that they won’t come back next year.”

“They’re really pretty. It’s kind of a shame they only last for a couple months.”

“Is it though? I mean, it’s just how they are. We’ll seed them again early spring and they’ll grow just fine.” Suga pointed over Daichi’s shoulder. “The flowers behind you, at the other end of the plot are perennials, though.” 

Daichi turned around. Tall stalks with small bell-shaped flowers swayed in the wind. The different shades of purple faded into white swirled up and down each stalk. They towered almost as high as the sunflowers. 

Suga smiled. “It’s called foxglove.”

“You’re making that up.”

“I’m not!” 

Daichi tapped his fingers against his lips like he was thinking. “That name is too cute to be real. I’m calling your bluff.”

Suga punched him and Daichi pretended to fall back from the blow. Suga peered over him with glittering eyes. “Want to know the scientific name?”

“I’m not sure if I can take anymore of your lies.” Daichi leaned on an elbow and put his other wrist to his forehead like a damsel in distress.

“Well I’m going to give it to you anyway.” Suga leaned over Daichi and wiggled his fingers in front of his face. “It’s digitalis, like fingers! Like tiny gloves for fingers! Or fox paws! Fox gloves!” 

Daichi sat up a little to look at Suga, who was still wiggling his fingers and laughing at himself. “Y’know, you’re not as cute as you think you are.” He meant it as a joke, but, as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. 

Suga stopped wiggling his fingers and dropped his hands. The smile fell from his face and he leaned back on his heels, away from Daichi.

“Ah, no, sorry, Suga, it was just a joke.” Daichi swallowed hard. 

Suga wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the ground. The playful glint in his eyes had faded. Daichi corrected himself. It hadn’t faded. He had killed it. The damage was done.

“I should go,” Daichi murmured. “I’m not really helping.”

Suga didn’t say anything, so Daichi got up and brushed the dirt off his shorts. He turned to go but stopped when he heard Suga’s voice behind him. 

“You want to know what foxglove means?”

“What it means?” 

“Yeah, like in flower language.”

“Okay…”

Suga looked him right in the eye. “Insincerity.”

The nightmares of the last couple months grabbed at Daichi’s clothing, his hair, his organs and threatened to pull him under. The months of silence, of saying nothing and meaning nothing rung in his ears. The nightmares, the sleepless nights made his eyes burn. 

“I guess that makes sense. Not everything comes back and, when something does, no one wants it.” He took a step forward and stopped again at the sound of Suga’s voice.

“But the meaning was given to it by people, Daichi. It’s just poetics. What really matters is actual, honest to goodness plant. This garden is as big and wonderful as it is because of it. And, yeah, it dies back every winter, but, each and every spring, it comes back bigger and more beautiful than the year before.”

Daichi looked at the flowers along the fence. Bees buzzed happily in, out, and around the shivering purple bells. The tiny gloves. He turned back to Suga, who looked up at him from the ground. 

There were so many months of silence. No one said anything. No one fought. No one stayed. Bokuto’s words came back to him. ‘You’re the man, Akaashi!’ 

Daichi almost laughed aloud. It really was that simple, wasn’t it?

“You’re amazing, Suga.”

Tears shone in the corners of Suga’s eyes and he scrunched his face in an attempt to stop them. He didn’t say anything. Daichi returned to where he was sitting and lowered himself down opposite Suga.

“Can we a cup of coffee later today?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Suga replied in a shaky voice. 

Daichi steeled his resolve. He grabbed the abandoned cultivator and worked on the patch of soil that Suga had directed him to in the first place. He would never walk away again.

“Can we get ice cream instead?”

Daichi watched Suga drop seeds into the earth, which finally felt solid beneath him.

“Ice cream sounds perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Inspired by life and this [picture](http://jellyryans.tumblr.com/post/148412897457/animetrashlord-daisuga-gardening-get-a-load-of) sent to me a million years ago by [this wonderful person](http://yaboyultraviolet.tumblr.com/). Sorry I got my grubby hands on it and made it sad. Now you know better! Also, if you're wondering what [fartleks](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fartlek) are, you are lucky.
> 
> Here's a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqRKkS37wQ4), if you want.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
